Untitled
by Niu Shiy-Ue
Summary: Short drabble inspired by the 'Night Circus' chapter in Broken Warriors.


The mage in the center of the circle was slight, but still captured Nanashi's attention. Black robes, whipped by unnatural winds,  
swallowed the figure, defined from the desert only by the silver of it's moon-bleached hair and magical ornaments. Gauntlets caught and amplified the moonlight, burning the pattern of the moving hands into his mind. The silk parted from throat to waist, exposing a generous V of pale skin. Below, the folds of the robe fell into each other,  
hiding the rest of the form completely. Nanashi thought of vampires and other night stalkers.

Gripping the rough bullhide whip tighter in a calloused hand he continued to silently watch the mage. Still air suddenly formed breezes that built into whirlwinds and tearing gales. The stars above blurred then vanished and the mage was lifted from the sand, cradled in the arms of nothing. He knew from experience that a difficult casting was beginning. He could not see the spirits gather to the mage's call nor hear their voices as they obeyed its will, but he could feel their passage on his bare skin, taste the moisture of their breaths.

Of course, if he had seen them, he wouldn't have been here to see this at all.

In a world of magic, where one out of every ten people was a spellcaster and even the poorest peasant used a simple charm to help his or her crops grow, Nanashi was unusual to say the least. Mage-  
blind from birth, not even the simplest spell would work for him. No fortune teller could read his future, no charm would affect him, he could not even be healed from an injury by a chirugeon. It was a difficult liability, especially growing up in a circus that built its reputation and day-to-day livelihood on such illusions and charms.

As a child, he had been a burden. He could not dazzle the crowd with illusions, nor charm the beasts to obedience, nor work a stall and if ever he got injured it would take him months to heal, rather than a few hours like the rest of the circus brats. The most he could hope for was to become a minor clown or tumbler or work in a food stall (and even then there was a high risk of him getting cheated).

When he had grown up, however, things changed. Forced to perform without the aid of magic, he grew skilled in other ways. He developed a rapport with the animals, more varied than a summoner's, more sure than a hypnotist's. Lacking telepathy, he learned to read people's bodies, faces and eyes. Unable to heal from injury, he developed a care to avoid it, incredible balance and flexibility. Without ever enhancing his senses, he taught himself to play the flute and to throw daggers, to the point he was even better than his sister. And this eventually got him his next job. Performing in the kingdom of Sanq, he was spotted by Mage Barton.

Barton was no minor spellcaster, instead just a few tiers below the High Council itself. And what more, he was ambitious, the Archemagus's seat was just high enough for him. The antics of the common witches and magicians of the circus was amusing, but a man who performed without their tricks was worth looking into. The potential was of such a person could be huge. And Barton offered money, more than the whole troop could ever dream of making in a dozen lifetimes. It was almost too easy to buy the young man away from the circus.

And that was how Nanashi became a killer. Mage-assassins were unusual and expensive in and of themselves, but someone who was immune to magic? Someone who could not be scryed, who could not be cursed or magically poisoned, who could never be fooled by any illusion no matter how well crafter, who could walk through wards because they simply did not exist for him? One already skilled in many of the qualities he would need? Handsome and intelligent enough as well?  
There were some drawbacks, but in the end Nanashi proved to be worth all and more of what Barton put into him.

Nanashi worked for Barton for a bit more than three years. During that time, Barton used him almost exclusively to take out his rivals, other mages who were expecting overwhelming spectacular attacks or subtle,  
long-term offenses that would wear away their protections. The expressions on their faces were almost comical when they were silently strangled by slender hands.

A crack of lightning brought Nanashi's thoughts back to the present.  
The mage collapsed down, followed by a torrent of rain. The silent man made his way to the pale boy's side, pushing aside waterlogged bangs to see in the downpour. The smaller, black clothed figure opened shining turquoise eyes, features slack in pleasure.

It echoed the scene from five years ago. Then they were atop a stone tower, buffeted by freezing winds, instead of down in a valley, soaked to their skins, but it came down to them. The whip made no sound as it hit the sand, while the dagger had rang on the stone tiles and the robes were of black silk, not white linen, but it was still the two of them. Assassin and mage, facing each other as the remnants of sorcery curled around green eyes, flowed through teal, met and caught each other.

Nanashi knew what he felt could not be magic, what he saw could not be illusion. But those eyes held him, more certain than any siren and he still felt the sparks when one delicate hand reached up to cup his cheek. Shuddering, he pressed his lips to the other's, feeling that hand tangle in his hair, pulling him down. And already he was losing himself into that touch, into the heat radiating from the still thrumming body, into the scent of lilies and myrrh. He released the other reluctantly. Shaking himself lose of the spell that was no spell he tried to bring the mage back to reality. "So what did you do?"

Those eyes were still unfocused, both bright from the power still flowing through his veins and hazy from the pleasure that resulted.  
The normally clear-cut voice was rough and slurred, "Salesha . . .  
this should . . . stop the drought . . . "

"Not to mention flood out the OZ troops just downriver of them."

The dreamy smile slipped into a slight pout. "Supposed to help . . .  
not destroy . . . "

"But it's more efficient to do two things at once," said Nanashi,  
repeating what the other had just said a few hours ago. The pout grew more pronounced. "And you never learn, do you? Always so careless after your pleasure . . . "

"But that's why you're here. That's why you love me." Soft laughter wound its way through the words.

"And you take shameless advantage of it."

"Only you." 


End file.
